When You're Lost
by androidilenya
Summary: Skye/Jemma Simmons drabbles, set through both seasons. (6: Skimmons. Hugs. Post S2E5.)
1. Accidents Happen

The sound of footsteps outside her bedroom (which was more of a closet with a bed in it, to be honest, despite how high-tech this entire plane was) made Skye turn over with a groan, rubbing her eyes.

"Oh, curse this-" Three exasperated words, followed by the unmistakable sound of something - many somethings - crashing to the ground.

She blinked. Had that been Simmons?

The sound of the biochemist's voice drifted in, an exasperated mutter as she struggled with whatever it was she had dropped. Skye swung her legs over the side of the bed, slipping her feet into the boots she had shed hours ago. She had to stifle a smile when she heard a muffled curse.

She stood and crossed to the doorway, leaning on the sill. "Need any help?"

Simmons' head jerked up, hand flying to her face to brush aside the hair that had escaped her neat ponytail. "I, ah - yes, that would be appreciated, thank you!"

Skye knelt to help gather the items, noting that they didn't seem too breakable - whatever they were. She picked one up and looked more closely at it, running her fingers over the metallic surface of a ball just big enough to fit in her palm.

"Thank you," Simmons gasped, grabbing the ball from Skye and stuffing it into the box she was carrying. "I'm in an _awful_ hurry, or I'd stay and chat."

"Where are you going?" Skye asked, eyeing the teetering pile of mechanical objects Simmons was now trying to balance in a box that was decidedly too small for it. "I could help - oh!"

The ball at the top of the pile rolled off, plunging from Simmons' arms. Skye lunged forward, only just catching it.

"Oh, dear." Simmons moved forward, the box in her arms wavering, and Skye stepped forward at the same time to help steady it. Simmons stumbled slightly, driving the box into Skye's stomach. Skye doubled over, wincing.

"Are you okay?" Simmons leaned forward, concerned, and Skye stood at the same time.

Their lips collided, more a sideways clash of teeth and tongue than anything else, Skye's mouth slipping on the corner of Simmons', a sharp pain spiking through her bottom lip. Simmons pulled back with a yelp, eyes wide.

"Oh, I - I-" She tightened her grip on the box, dithering for a few seconds, then turned and bolted. "Terribly sorry!" she called back over her shoulder.

Skye blinked, tasting blood on her lips, and wondered if she should call Simmons back - wondering why she _wanted_ to, and wondering why the first thought that had popped into her mind was _well, she isn't the worst kisser I've met, is she?_


	2. Candy Cane Kisses

**Two Christmas drabbles (written for Femslash Yuletide 2013)**

* * *

Skye liked surprising Jemma in the oddest of places, appearing when she least expected it. Even better were the times when no one else was around, because that was when Skye could swoop in and kiss her before Jemma even knew she was there; get that little squeak of pleased surprise from her before it was muffled by her lips.

Lately, Jemma had taken to hanging candy canes up around the lab, replacing the ones Fitz insisted on appropriating. And, of course, it was no surprise that Jemma herself would sneak a candy cane every now and then, the red and white striped stick balanced between her lips as she leaned over the microscope, intent on her work.

Skye didn't mind that. It was easy enough to sneak up and push the candy cane aside, plant her lips on Jemma's––and her mouth tasted of mint and sugar, then, and Skye could feel her smile.

* * *

A knock on her door made Skye look up, surprised––and then she doubled over laughing, unable to help it. Jemma stood in the doorway, her entire torso a muddle of clashing colors and bright sequins, scratchy wool with visible gaps through which her skin could be seen.

"Skye!" Jemma squeaked, frowning. "It's––Fitz knitted this himself, you know!"

"I'm sorry," Skye choked out between helpless laughs. "That's just so––so ___ugly_, Jemma, how could you even stand to get into it?"

Jemma shot her a helpless look, holding out her arms, displaying the thing that called itself a sweater that seemed to have latched onto her. "I––well, yes. But the problem is, ___Fitz_ gave it to me and I can't––I don't want to hurt his feelings."

"Feelings be damned, that's hurting my ___eyes_." Skye stood and grabbed Jemma's wrist, pulling her over to the bed. Jemma squeaked again, catching herself on Skye's arm.

"What're you––oh." She fell silent as Skye grabbed the bottom of the sweater, grinning mischievously.

"I do, however, have a solution for that." She pulled Jemma backwards with her. They landed on the bed, Jemma on top of Skye, face flushed.

"I think I like this solution," she said, breathless, as Skye yanked the sweater up and over her head.


	3. Worth It

**Post 1x07.**

* * *

It was completely an accident.

___Completely_ an accident, as Jemma was going to continue to tell herself. It's hardly as though she ___planned_ to end up helping Skye hack SHIELD. And it's not like she ___meant_ to shoot Sitwell. She just... panicked. Which––no matter what Skye might say––was a completely normal reaction. And perhaps it had messed up their plan more than a little, and perhaps at the time she had been rather terrified that there would be serious repercussions, but––

___But_.

Skye's delighted laugh later, once it was clear that Jemma wasn't in too much trouble for tranquilizing a superior officer. The way she twined her fingers through Jemma's, squeezing once as though to reassure herself that she was still there. The way she tilted her head up, eyes drifting half-shut in invitation (and, oh god, the way Jemma's heart still stuttered when she leaned in and ___took_ that invitation, like it was the very first time).

"Worth it?" Skye teased, pulling away.

Jemma caught her breath and shrugged. "Perhaps next time, though––no tranquilizing anyone?" she forced out, reminding herself, ___rules. Rules are good. Breaking rules is––something for Skye to do, not you._

Skye laughed. "Don't tell me you didn't like it at least a ___little_ bit."

She didn't want to admit that Skye might be right––god only knew what she would make of ___that_––so she fastened her hands around her shoulders and pulled her down, a smile fighting its way up at Skye's delighted laugh.


	4. In The Quiet

**Post 1x22 (season finale)**

* * *

After she wakes up, Jemma spends the night in Skye's room, clutching a pillow to her chest in sleepless anxiety. Every time she closes her eyes, she's back below the ocean, an immeasurable weight pressing in all around her. Every time she closes her eyes, they snap back open within seconds, accompanied by a soft, involuntary whimper of fear.

(She should've died, she thinks, and can't figure out how to tell the difference, how to tell if she ___hasn't_ died and this is just her brain giving her something to live in for the last few oxygen-deprived seconds, if she won't wake up to water pouring into her lungs––)

Skye holds her wordlessly, letting Jemma curl up against her and take deep, sobbing breaths as she fights to keep from screaming. The only other noise is the soft tick of the clock above her bed, the bright red second hand sweeping around the dial.

At around four in the morning, Skye's hands steal up and wind themselves through Jemma's hair, smoothing it down. She presses into the touch like a kitten, making another soft noise. Skye runs her fingers through the tangled strands soothingly and she relaxes ever so slightly, a bit of the tightness around her throat disappearing.


	5. Missing You

**Set between seasons 1 and 2, with spoilers through 2x03.**

* * *

She misses her _so much_.

The first few days after Jemma leaves aren't so bad, really – too much going on, too much hiding and hacking and training. Mostly the latter, once things settle down. Running and pull-ups and shooting until her fingers blister and the line of shots through the target is perfect, one-two-three-four right through the heart. (She pretends every single one of them is Ward, and it helps.)

Still, things get quieter after awhile.

SHIELD-in-hiding isn't as flashy as the old SHIELD was, and there's even more downtime in between missions flushing out the remains of HYDRA. There's only so much time she can spend in the shooting range before people (Trip, mostly) start looking concerned.

She lies in her bed for hours on end, staring at the ceiling.

(Jemma used to lay right here next to her, curl up with her head nestled between Skye's shoulder and neck and drift off to sleep like that.)

It gets harder to fall asleep.

The lab is even worse – the one time she goes down to see how Fitz is doing (not much better, usually) she has to back out too quickly. Jemma should be _there_, hunched over a microscope or running a simulation, chattering about her newest discovery.

"Where is she?" she asks Coulson once, and gets a tired shake of his head in reply. It's more than she was expecting, honestly.

She types up emails – long and rambling and far too pathetic to ever hit send, even if she knew any of Jemma's accounts. There was never any need to, not when they lived together on a freaking _plane_.

_Miss you,_ she signs off every time, then selects all and deletes.

(An icebound ship is the last place she expects to see Jemma – _through the_ _scope of a sniper rifle_ is the last way she expects to see her – but she knows in a heartbeat what the truth must be, and fires at the railing instead.

Their eyes meet, and she sees the trust in Jemma's eyes before she turns away.)


	6. Homecoming

**The Skimmons hug we all deserved at the end of episode 5.**

* * *

Skye hangs back even if the only thing she wants to do is rush downstairs and find Jemma and _never let her go_. It's been – yeah, it's been a long day, and she needs to breathe, and—

(And how can she be sure that Jemma will _want _to see her?)

After all, she's spent so long waiting to find her father, only to discover that he's a monster. There's some distant, superstitious part of her that wonders if _everyone_ she knows is going to turn out to be awful, just under the surface. Ward – her father—

(But not Jemma, her mind insists. Never her.)

_I know that. I – but maybe being a monster is catching, maybe she doesn't want – maybe _I'm_ going to turn out the same as everyone else._

There's a noise in the doorway, and she turns to find Jemma standing there, a half-smile on her face.

"Skye?"

And despite all of it, she's crossing the room before she can think about it, feet carrying her forward and her arms thrown around Jemma, squeezing her tight and sudden so the air huffs out of Jemma and she can hear her laugh breathlessly.

"You're back," she mumbles into Jemma's shoulder, breathing in the scent of unfamiliar shampoo.

"Y-yes, I am." Jemma pats her shoulders, and Skye can feel her smile. "I'm back."

"I'm not going to let you go again," Skye informs her, and Jemma chuckles.

"Well, that might make moving around a little hard."

"Hmph." Skye tightens her grip, closing her eyes. "Well, that's a small price to pay. You're staying right _here_, okay?"

Jemma hugs her back. "Yes, Skye. I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
